


No Bloom in Spring without Song

by kalenel



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:58:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalenel/pseuds/kalenel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romance in any situation can be challenging, but being in the middle of a war and also totally clueless can certainly complicate things. This story details the awkward flirtation and romance between Lavellan and Josephine. It's a half-attempt at an epistolary novel, chapters framed by letters.</p>
<p>This work is part of the 2015 Dragon Age Big Bang. The accompanying artwork can be found here: http://shellactank.tumblr.com/post/dragonagebb2015</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few lines were taken from Sappho in chapter four, masquerading now as elven poetry. The title of the work is also adapted from one of her lines.

It wasn’t the smell of warm oatmeal with just that hint of cinnamon that Sera always added to it that woke Juniper. Nor was it the sound of Iron Bull’s laughter, or the quiet murmured response of Solas. She had never been an early riser, something that she thought she should somehow be ashamed of, being the Inquisitor as she was and having her people rise before her. Shouldn’t someone of her importance rise with the dawn or something like that? It was how the tales always went…

None of those things awoke her, though -- what made her finally decide to jump out of bed was the rush of wings, the strangely musical call of Leliana’s birds. Was it that they truly sounded like the peal of bells or was it just because she knew what burden they’d be carrying, her anticipation weaving the beauty of their calls? That burden of delicate but strong parchment, lightly scented with lavender, gold seal perfectly centered, either from meticulousness or years of practice, or more likely both...

She pulled a shirt over her head as she emerged, ran a hand through her hair to get it to settle down. She and Sera had the same short bed-head issues, though the other elf didn’t care nearly as much. It’s not like Juniper had anyone to impress out here, but she did at least like to make sure she didn’t have leaves or bugs in her hair. And living outside as she had for her entire life, she had had both and _worse_. Solas and Bull, of course, were above such things. She had thought, many times, of shaving her head bald, just sidestep all the issues. Horns wouldn’t be so bad either.

One of their scouts had retrieved the message from the raven, and was already crossing the camp to give it to her before Juniper got half way. She acknowledged the kissing noises from Sera only with a rude Dalish gesture -- Sera didn’t get it, but she could tell Solas did by the quiet sound of disapproval and Bull as well by the guffaw of laughter. Juniper wasn’t about to stop and explain what it meant, though, and simply hugged the packet to her chest, grabbed a hardened roll, and went back to her tent.

She ran her fingers over the folded paper, as if by touching it she could somehow connect with the woman who wrote it, unlock her voice in the words, the breathless laughter, the flushed cheeks, secret smiles…

Of course, much of this, Juniper was sure, was in her own head -- at least the secret smiles bit. She didn’t know how these shemlen courted each other, but Ambassador Montiliyet seemed particularly difficult, or maybe it was that she just wasn’t interested. Juniper told herself that, but then there would be something -- some smile or little word or fleeting touch -- that roped her right back on in again. It was never this difficult in dalish clans -- one just had to perform some task that made one worthy and then there you go! As long as the task was accepted, then everyone was happy. Juniper thought that she’d been performing many tasks that made her worthy, but so far nothing had seemed to work. Of course… Juniper hadn’t ever been this serious before, hadn’t engaged in this formal sort of courtship. She’d had lovers, exploring and being explored in her youth, but it had never been serious. It hadn’t seemed like the best idea, getting serious. She was occupied with her training, her studies, and no one in her clan had interested her enough. Getting in an actual relationship, founded on courtship and _not_ being that interested… well, that seemed a recipe for drama that the First really shouldn’t be involved in if she was one day going to take on the duties of Keeper.

So she hadn’t gone to this length before; perhaps she would have always been terrible at it. Or, maybe she could go easy on herself and say that it was just a difference of cultures, getting things all mixed up… or again, maybe, if she wanted to be _harsher_ to herself, the ambassador just _wasn’t into her_. If she wasn’t, though, wouldn’t it have been better to _tell_ Juniper? Josephine was direct, yet tactful, enough for that.

But then there were the letters…

_My dearest Inquisitor Lavellan,_

_How did you ever manage to get that flower all the way back to Skyhold so perfectly preserved? No doubt it is some magical aspect that I could not understand, but do promise me that you will at least try to explain the next time I am blessed by your presence here in my office._

_I have kept it in a vase on my desk so that I might enjoy it for as long as possible and think of you. I worry often about you, Inquisitor, though I know that this is silly of me and that you will be just fine. I got the idea, however, yesterday that perhaps I might enjoy your flower even longer..._

_Our gardeners are so talented, Inquisitor, as you know. They have extracted seeds for me, promise that they will have a potted crystal grace by the end of the season. They were most excited about the plant itself, and though I am made to understand that it is a rare herb, I am more content to listen to the musical sound it makes from the breeze through my open window, and wonder if that was how you found it in the first place? I do hope you will tell me._

_It is almost a distraction, though a welcome one. Last evening, we had a sudden storm -- rain, not snow -- and I opened the window as much as I dared to let in the wildness of the breeze (you can be assured that I took measures to secure my papers). The music of the crystal grace rivaled the finest Orlesian symphonies, and I admit I got very little work done, so very enchanted by it as I was._

_I do hope that this letter finds you safe. I have included for you a sketch of the mother cat in the kitchen that I wrote to you about two letters ago -- she had her kittens! They are lovely, so perfect, and my drawing does not do them justice. You will have to return to Skyhold soon to see them for yourself._

_Yours, cordially,_

_Josephine Montiliyet_

_Ambassador to the Inquisition_

Juniper could hear Josephine’s voice in her head, could hear the scratch of the quill on parchment, could smell the ink, the hot, fresh wax. She could see the way the woman would have smiled during certain parts, how she would exclaim and give that startled laugh of hers over the kittens -- her laugh always seemed surprised, as if she hadn’t known it was coming. Was it really unstudied, artless? Or, as with everything else about her, was that laugh, too, carefully crafted?

Juniper wanted to believe that, yes, some laughs were for others, a facade, a character she played, but surely there had to be one laugh, just one, that was all Josephine, nothing more? Would she have laughed like that over the kittens? Would Juniper ever be able to inspire such a thing?

She smoothed her finger over the little sketch at the corner of the sheet, all careful lines with a steady hand. Had she studied drawing as part of her upbringing? Was that part of a shemlen highborn’s education? So much she didn’t know…

She laid the letter over her face, closed her eyes underneath it, and breathed in the scented paper, wondering if Josephine ordered it like this or if she scented it herself? Juniper chose to believe that she scented it herself.

And she stayed there for another half hour, thinking of the woman who wrote the letter, before she heard some of the tents being broken down. Okay then… time to stop daydreaming and start working -- they had a lot of ground to cover today, and she’d already wasted a good portion of the morning. But she got these letters only once every couple of weeks! She thought she deserved one lazy morning every couple of weeks. At least that was what she told herself when she finally, for real, exited the tent, bed roll already secured and ready to fit to her pack. Time to be the Inquisitor again.


	2. Chapter 2

_Ambassador Montiliyet,_

_I am not sure if this letter will arrive before I will. If it does, then know that I am hot on its heels. If I arrive first… well, this will just be a repeat of everything I will surely tell you!_

_Your translation of that stanza from your last letter was very good -- I have a few additional notes, but I thought that perhaps we could go over it together? Maybe in the garden? I also have another book of Dalish poetry for you that I am sure you will like._

_I won’t have long at Skyhold, and I know that we’ll both be busy, but if you can possibly manage it, I would like to have at least one dinner with you -- I will tell you how I preserved that flower, and everything else that you’d wish to hear._

_Na sahlin uth,_

_J_

* * *

 

Coming home -- home? Since when had she started thinking of Skyhold as home? -- was always a busy affair. There were five million things that needed her attention, and five million more things that she wanted to give her attention to, but that would likely fall by the wayside as they always did. Her time was never, truly, her own. Had it ever been? She’d come into her power early, and after her there had been no other to even consider as an apprentice. Her life, from a very young age, had been marked for bigger things -- what choice did she have? Her time belonged to the clan, and she had been happy to serve. And now, it seemed, her life belonged to the Inquisition, and she was happy to serve now too, but… well sometimes she wished she just had a _little_ time to herself.

She had, as it happened, arrived after her letter, and though she saw Josephine’s face briefly, she was soon taken up by her other advisors -- the plans for the siege at Adamant needed to be finalized, and, she had blessed little time for time for poetry and flowers and kittens and Josephine’s smiles.

The times she did see the ambassador, it was all about business, in the war room, or in her office. A week went by, and then she was off again -- a week was already too much, Cullen had complained, but there was little to be done about that. They had to wait for their allies to mobilize, had to move at the pace of the army, and if it was one thing Juniper had learned, it was that armies moved slowly.

Yet in her pack, wrapped in a yellow ribbon, a little tag attached with a inked paw print, was a sachet of tea… there was little mistake as to who that was from, and though the following weeks were heavy on her heart, the losses much, and the decisions difficult, the tea was fragrant and smelled of lavender.

* * *

They came home with one less.

Juniper wasn’t a scout. She was a mage, and back in her clan, she had devoted large parts of her time to studying the Keeper’s books, what she bid Juniper to do. That wasn’t to say that when a hunter didn’t come back that she wasn’t affected -- everyone was. But Juniper was new to making decisions that… that cost _lives_ . Everyone turned to her to make them -- Iron Bull said that this was how the qunari chose their leaders. The ones that could make the tough decisions. She was apparently this person? She hadn’t ever thought of herself that way. And yet here she was. And now a man, a warden, was dead. Even so, the greatest fear she had felt there, and the one that the fear demon had taunted her with the most was… it wasn’t failing at being a leader, or failing at their cause or anything like that -- what she was _supposed_ to be afraid of. It was… leaving _her_ behind… And that in itself felt like a failure, as if she wasn’t quite cut out to be this person -- even her _fears_ were wrong, and her decisions that she made under pressure, even more so.

She didn’t send word ahead. She wasn’t sure what to say, how to express herself. Despite getting everyone else out of the Fade, despite the fact that they had recruited the few wardens left to their cause, it still felt like she had failed. And how did one write a letter saying that?

But Josephine met her at the gates anyway, slippered feet getting dirty in the mud; Juniper said something about the state of said shoes, but was ignored.

“I must have a moment of your time, Inquisitor,” she said, hand light on Juniper’s back as she explained the necessity of writing a series of apologia for the wardens’ actions (and now that they were affiliated, the Inquisition’s actions), and she thought she could smell lavender over the scent of horses and wet blankets. In the chaos of their homecoming, the ambassador stole her away, secreted her to the office where magic kept the crystal grace preserved and tinkling in the breeze.

“I don’t know what I can really say that isn’t in the debriefs,” Juniper was explaining, running a hand streaked with mud through her hair, which was equally peppered with dirt. It had been a messy ride home. She wasn’t good with words, didn’t have the quick wit that she felt she needed in this position -- it was the same when she had been the Keeper’s First. She had never had the light touch of words to ease things along. So what could Josephine possibly…

“You were in the Fade,” came the uncharacteristic interruption. “No one… not since the magisters…” And for the first time since she’d arrived back, Juniper looked at Josephine, pulled herself out of the half daze of travel weariness and other things that had kept her in a fog.

The usually carefully styled twist of brown hair was messy, wisps of it coming loose to frame a face that was pinched with worry. Never had Juniper seen such an expression on Josephine’s face -- it was always so carefully composed. She’d thought that even those flushes she sometimes noticed could be crafted, or the surprised laughs or the little smiles… but this was anything but premeditated. Juniper wasn’t sure how she knew; she just _knew_.

“I… _we_ all thought that you might not return.” Hands dotted with ink wrung themselves before her. “What you have done… it is unprecedented. I was sure, when I heard, that…”

Her gaze fell on the flowers, slender fingers reaching out to touch the petals gently. “I am glad you are home, Inquisitor.”

Would that Josephine had said that while looking at Juniper! For she was unable to hide the fluttering of her heart, the shades of joy and nervousness that chased their way across her face. The former, for obvious reasons, and the latter… oh there were letters and tea and little drawings and off the cuff responses of _I_ that said one thing, and then… and then corrections to _we_ …

Maybe she was learning from the ambassador because when those grey eyes finally rose, Juniper was mostly under control. “I’m glad I am too,” she said softly, eyes lighting on the flowers again -- she was absurdly glad they were there, some sort of focal point other than Josephine’s face. “I was… I was afraid I wouldn’t see you again, _ma_ ...” She stopped herself from saying what she wanted, editing just in time to say “... _nehn._ ” Not her heart, not her love, no matter how she might wish… and yet her own heart wished that Josephine, so clever, so quick, would catch the omission, surely she must have caught that pausing half-step.

The breeze stirred the petals, tiny sounds like glass bells moving through the room. Juniper was acutely aware of each speck of mud on her person, of the charcoal smear across the back of her hand, of the broken nail on her thumb, the calluses there. She didn’t dare raise her eyes, too afraid of what her words might have brought upon her, too thrilled that they might, that Josephine would understand…

“Oh!” Another surprise of a laugh, and Juniper looked up in time to see the ambassador tuck hair back in its place, run a cloth over her hand to try to excise the spots of ink. “We should have all known that you, of all people, would find a way to survive. It was silly of me to worry. Now,” she went and sat behind her desk, got a fresh quill, dipped it in a new pot of ink. “I must start to pen those apologias, Inquisitor. If there are perhaps any details that hadn’t made their way into the briefings that might make our warden friends more sympathetic? Every little bit helps.”

* * *

 

_My dear Lady Inquisitor,_

_I saw that book of poetry that you left on my desk -- how lovely! I wish that the evening was already upon me so that I might begin translating it. And such a lovely copy as well! It is a beautiful addition to my library._

_I am sorry that we could not find time for dinner together, but I am very glad to hear that you enjoyed that tea I sent with you. No doubt you have already found the packet I sent with you in your bag! I hope to be in your thoughts while you drink it._

_Please do stay safe. You are in_ my _thoughts often -- every breeze through the crystal grace calls you to mind, and I cannot help but smile. Return soon so that I do not have to subsist on memories._

_Yours, always,_

_Josephine Montiliyet_

_Ambassador to the Inquisition_


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear Inquisitor, ma lethallan,_

_I used the term correctly, yes? See! I am getting better -- the poems you have given me are quite useful, and have given me knowledge beyond the basics that I previously possessed. I do believe I even scribed a few lines of my own that, I flatter myself, actually make sense and use the appropriate meter for the form. You will look them over for me, I hope?_

_As I have done my homework, Inquisitor, so shall you. I do not expect you to memorize all the innumerable ties between the lords and ladies of Orlais, but I have provided a book with the pages marked of those families that you should at least make an effort in remembering. It will help immensely at Halamshiral, I assure you._

_I look forward to testing your knowledge… over cakes and tea! For yes, we will practice Orlesian manners too, not that your own are lacking in any way, of course, but that we must play the Game as the players will it, and part of that is knowing which fingers to use when raising a tea cup. At least there will be cakes!_

_Always,_

_Josephine Montiliyet_

_Ambassador to the Inquisition_

* * *

 Juniper considered herself a quick study -- she had to be as the Keeper’s First -- but she supposed that it was easy to be a quick study when one was learning things that one had a solid cultural foundation in, and more than that, when one had more than a week to remember the name, relevance, and relations of every damn shemlen who had apparently ever been born.

She wanted to do well -- for obvious reasons -- of course she wanted the mission to go well, didn’t want to embarrass herself, her clan, her people, her cause. But she also wanted to do well for a less obvious reason (well, less obvious to the source of the reason, anyway). She wanted to impress the ambassador, wanted Josephine to see her as quick, intelligent, easily able to move from culture to culture as the ambassador herself did so well. Of course, Josephine had trained in this since she was small, and this was her profession, so naturally it would be easier for her, but… Well, Juniper never claimed to have that much sense in such matters.

She walked everywhere with her nose buried in that damn book, even approached the ever-unapproachable Vivienne to test her in between cramming sessions. She honestly wasn’t sure if that worked -- mostly she just got flustered whenever she got a name wrong, and the lady mage would let her know in no uncertain terms how ridiculous she was for having missed the obvious relation between these two families. The more flustered she got, the more answers she got wrong, and she left Vivienne’s tutelage feeling like she forgot more than she had ever learned about Orlais.

Leave it to the shemlen to be far more complicated than they needed to be. Regardless of how ready she was to engage Josephine on this subject, the day arrived wherein she had to prove her knowledge. She spent extra time that morning brushing her hair, running the comb over her short, brown locks, as if that would help. Her hair was shorter than Cassandra’s -- there was very little she could do with it except try to make sure that it wasn’t sticking out all over the place. But at the very least, she wanted _that_ part of her to not be a disappointment.

When she entered the garden, Josephine was already there, table set up in the gazebo, a tiered display of tiny cakes and porcelain tea cups so delicate as to be almost translucent in their places at the table, so fine that she hardly knew what to do with them. It was clear that they were expensive -- everything from Orlais was. Dalish pieces were gorgeous as well, a style that she overall preferred (no surprise there), but Orlais had an upper class that was willing to pay obscene amounts of money for such things. A flute to hold delicately spiced wine, carved from dropped halla horns, painstakingly etched scenes from epic poems spiraling around it was something almost anyone in the clans could think of owning -- a crafter would want something from a hunter or whatnot, and a trade would be made. Orlais? Not so much.

She’d thought, for the recreation of a fancy tea party, Josephine might dress up, but the opposite was true -- she didn’t even have her ruffled cloth-of-gold sleeves that Juniper always longed to touch, the fabric seeming so plush, so elegant. But what she wore was no less elegant, just simpler. A soft doeskin tunic hugged her form, little pearl buttons down the middle. A gold locket hung low on a long chain, and her hair was only half pinned back with a clasp carved from ash, the rest falling about her shoulders in artless waves. Soft grey slippers adorned her feet, ivory leggings looking creamy and soft -- Juniper couldn’t tell what they were made of. Was this what the ambassador wore on her days off? Was this unofficial, not true business?

Juniper was glad that she’d combed her hair.

“Ah, my dear Inquisitor, don’t you look lovely!” Josephine exclaimed, rising to her feet to give a little bow, dark curls soft against sun-browned cheeks -- _was_ she lovely? Juniper had a hard time thinking of herself as such when Josephine was clearly more effortlessly beautiful. No amount of hair brushing would close the gap.

She was flushing -- damn her! Juniper dropped the hand that had raised to touch her own over-warm cheek, mentally chastised herself for biting her lip. “Th-thanks…” Smooth!

A gentle little laugh made her look up to see the ambassador rise, all grace and eloquence, a touch of coral on her smiling lips. “No gratitude is necessary for speaking such an easy truth, Inquisitor. But,” she raised a slender finger in admonishment. “You forgot the bow in return.”

Oh… oh! Were they already beginning the lesson? The tips of her ears burned as she dropped into a hasty bow that she’d practiced, pretty sure that she was messing it up somehow, but there was no correction from Josephine, only a sweet invitation to the table, to have a cup of tea. Juniper thought her acceptance was mostly audible, though she did remember the proper _way_ of accepting the hospitality! Whether or not anyone could hear it… well, that was another matter. Her wits were already scattered -- her only consolation was that she might not be this hopeless in the actual event. She would not be desperately attempting (and failing) to woo masked Orlesians during the ball.

She did, also, get better over time -- Josephine had such an easy way about her, all smiles that lit up her already peerless grey eyes, and though there were still things that Juniper didn’t remember or misremembered, corrections came gently. Juniper was, perhaps, even close to her normal, witty self, making Josephine laugh, she was sure, for real at least three times, her cheeks dark, elegant fingers coming up to brush against them, as if she could shoo away the heat there. Juniper knew it wouldn’t work, having already tried it for herself several times.

There was something in that laugh, though, in that strange, lilting way that Josephine spoke -- Juniper had never heard someone speak like that before they’d met, and she was sure that she’d never heard any voice so beautiful -- that gave her strength that she didn’t know she had. It made her daring, made her want to chance more, to draw this out past the lesson wrapped in a tea party, to try to make this evening go on forever…

“You have done so well,” Josephine was saying, and Juniper was just drunk enough on being in this woman’s presence that she could believe it. “I do believe that more than a few Orlesian nobles will be quite shocked to see that their usual unimaginative remarks on the rustic nature of anyone _not_ Orlesian will lack all barbs.” As if, she went on to say, waving a hand dismissively, they would have any barbs in the first place -- it was hard to take such people seriously when they cared more about the amount of pearls on their shoes than anything else, and --

“Have a glass of wine with me?”

Juniper just blurted it out, and though the bravery carried her that far, now that it was _out there_ , sitting in the middle of everything like a nug suddenly dropping from the sky to land on their table, she regretted it deeply. What if she said no? What if she said _yes_ ?! Either possibility was terrifying, and _oh_ , there were no gods, were there, for if there were, _someone_ would have shut her foolish mouth --

“I should perhaps get back to work -- there are so many letters to write,” Josephine was saying while Juniper’s mind ran in tight, neat, little panicked circles. “But,” she touched a thoughtful finger to her lip. “Well, I suppose one glass could not hurt, yes?” She clapped her hands, gave a little, joyful laugh. “It has been so long since I have had one! It will go straight to my head, I am sure.”

Okay, so maybe the gods _did_ exist…

One moment they were in the garden, and Juniper was contemplating the virtues of non-existence, and the next they were in the tavern, seated at a small table, two glasses of wine in front of them. Well, okay then!

A glass of wine each turned into two, and there was a permanent flush on Josephine’s cheeks; the tips of Juniper’s ears were right there with them. Slender sienna fingers turned the glass back and forth, almost empty by now.

“You have trained me, Juniper,” Josephine said, as if it were a great secret, looking up at the woman across from her from under hooded eyes. “To get far too excited when I hear the calling of Leliana’s birds. Nine out of ten times, it isn’t for me, well, I mean, not from _you_ , but then there is that one time that it is, and oh!” She squirmed a little in her seat, as if reliving the moment. “I can hardly wait to get it in my hands, to see what you have written for me, what gifts you might have hidden inside.”

Juniper was sure that if she didn’t have almost two glasses of wine in her -- was shemlen wine more potent? Or had she become a lightweight? -- she would feel way in over her head, unsure of what to say, how to act, as she always was around this woman, but right now… “I always have my eyes open when I’m out in the woods and the brambles and the streams, thinking of you, of what I could send to you that will make you smile.”

A little sound of surprise, a shy laugh half hidden by her hand, grey eyes dancing, joyful. “You are too good to me -- truly, I would just be satisfied to see your words, written by your hand…”

She was faint now, lightheaded, as Josephine reached across the table, soft fingers trailing down Juniper’s, leaving her skin feeling scorched in their wake. Her skin tingled, a little rushing gasp sounding soft between them, and she knew this feeling would linger long past the end of this night, a brand into her very flesh from just this one, gentle touch.

“You have the most elegant script,” Josephine was saying, quiet, thoughtful, as she looked down at the fingers whose art she was praising. “I imagine you writing it, the sound of the quill on paper, the little frustrated sound you surely make when you try to rub off the bit of smudged sap on the corner -- do you know that I love those pieces of you as surely as I love your words?”

“I…” Juniper was all eloquence now, of course, her face so flushed that she could hardly think, only commit each word to memory, the way they rolled off of Josephine’s tongue, the way her hand stroked her skin, as if by touching she could exist in the moments that she’d imagined, just like…

A crash and a roar of laughter from the other side of the room seemed to fracture the air around them, so warm and charged, and now… nothing. Nothing except Josephine letting out a little, surprised laugh, the backs of her hands on her cheeks to cool them. “Oh but it is so late,” she was saying. “And I have so much to do, but a pleasure, Inquisitor, a pleasure, we really must do this again.”

* * *

  _Da’nehn,_

_I don’t know why I’m writing to you -- we will be sharing the same road all the way to Orlais, so maybe this is foolish? But my plan is to send it ahead to one of our people waiting to receive us at the palace, so that as soon as we arrive, you will have a message from me._

_I fear that I will be so busy that I’ll barely get to see you. But you said that we had to do it again, drink another glass together… and you did make me learn all the names of those Orlesian wines, for some reason? So clearly I must show off my knowledge by getting the best bottle from the kitchens somehow. And you will share it with me? I’m sure it will be a scandal, somehow, if you don’t._

_Na sahlin uth,_

_J_


	4. Chapter 4

\-- _Attached by a gold thread to an ornate, golden nug mask, complete with mother of pearl inlays, delicate, silver-spun whiskers, and pink crystal inner ears--_

 _Favors that I expend are nothing if it means I will make you smile, Inquisitor. I fully expect you to wear this at least once while you are here._ That _will be a great scandal if you do not, and I am sure I will never forgive you!_

… _.Especially since I have a matching one._

* * *

 

It must have been Josephine’s excellent tutelage that allowed Juniper to navigate the political intricacies of Orlais. She was sure she wouldn’t have had the savvy she needed to know just how to use that locket she found in Celene’s vault, to recognize a worthy secret when she heard one, to overcome the prejudice of the people there, and make them all flock to her cause to take down one of their own, and raise two in his place.

Leliana assured her that Orlais was essentially _theirs_ , that they knew enough, and that the paired women rulers _owed_ them enough that the Inquisition would have a hefty say in the way the country was run for quite some time -- and of course their spymaster would ensure the secrets, and the power, kept flowing in the proper directions: toward _them_.

It was enough to make Juniper giddy, though she didn’t show that while around others, of course. She was a practiced hand at all this political stuff now, or so she felt she was, even if she did have to take her nug mask off earlier this evening to start fighting Venatori.

Wine flowed, and there was no way that she could flit away to the kitchens to nick a bottle without someone missing her now. She was the center of the party the way she had never been before, and it was a miracle that she somehow made her way to a balcony alone for a breath of cool air -- it had been downright oppressive in the ballroom. She half wondered if she had Bull to thank for her alone time… he would make an imposing presence at the door, after all, and she knew that _he_ knew that she would have been getting overwhelmed and needed time alone.

Or… she _thought_ she was alone.

She heard the door open, letting in a rush of voices and overly complicated music, and then it closed, the sounds muffled again. Her ears picked up the soft sounds of slippers before she turned, knowing already who it was without even having to see.

Quick little steps closed the distance between them, Josephine seeming all in a rush to get to her, stormy eyes bright with joy, a darker coral than before coloring her full lips. The scent of lavender tickled Juniper’s nose. “You did so well,” the ambassador said, breathless, exhilarated, her words coming out in a rush, unpracticed, _her_ . “I mean, of course you did, you always do, but… oh!” She took Juniper’s hands in both of hers, squeezing them, and if Juniper’s cheeks hadn’t already been hot, this would have done it. “I am so very proud of you, you are... “ she seemed to lose her words a moment, eyes darting around as if she expected to find them peeking out at her from a corner, behind a bench, a shrub. “...you are constantly _more_ than I ever dreamed you could be.”

All of that careful, artful training that had been imparted to her was for nothing now, when she was so shy, looking down, the freckles on her face surely even more prominent on her darkened cheeks. She didn’t know what to say, how to accept this compliment when she felt that she only half deserved it (where was her giddiness from before?!), but then Josephine was continuing, stepping closer still.

“But are you all right? Everything that happened…”

Everything meaning the execution of Gaspard, the intrigue, the overall stress of the evening. It was no secret among them that Juniper was about as comfortable amidst the crowd as poor Cullen was -- she was just able to handle it better, shove it aside and get the job down. And now…

“Yes… yes I think so.” Maybe? “ _Emma_ _souveri_ \-- I’m tired, I mean.” All the more evident with the slip of her tongue. But then she was still so _on_ from the evening’s events! And somehow she didn’t care at all that Gaspard had met his end… and maybe she should? She wasn’t sure. But she… she _thought_ she was okay.

It would be hard to be otherwise, anyway, with Josephine so close, looking strange and oh so official in the Inquisition garb. Juniper was herself -- she looked down at the two of them, at how they matched, and even so, she felt that Josephine was clearly the more beautiful, wore it so much better.

But uniforms were boring. All of this was boring and inconsequential. And why? Because Josephine was still close, still had her hands caught near her heart, and Juniper didn’t know if she dared to raise her eyes.

“You must forgive me,” came that soft, musical voice that Juniper was so utterly in love with. “I am always so afraid for you. I tell myself not to be, but then I am, and there seems to be little I can do about it.”

“But we’ve won tonight.” Her reply was no more than a whisper; it needn’t be louder, close as they were, and maybe part of Juniper wanted the ambassador to lean even closer, trying to catch those breathy words. “It is ours.”

“And what shall we do with it, then?”

_What shall we do with it, then?_

The question seemed to dance around her, whirling and teasing with possibility, never quite in her grasp so that she could wring out the answer. _What shall we do with it, then?_ She raised her eyes at last, green to gray, fresh spring leaves to storm tossed waves, and she swore that they were close enough that she could taste the woman’s breath, sweetened with wine -- how many glasses had Josephine had? How many had Juniper had?

 _What_ shall _we do with it, then?_

If Juniper was truly _more_ , was truly this hero that everyone claimed she was, then she would kiss her now, stand on her toes to claim those coral lips, taste the wine there, drink her in, headier than any draught this party could offer. But she was just herself, shy and uncertain and hesitant, and so though she licked her lips, dreaming, she couldn’t take that step.

Instead, she heard herself saying, “Dance with me?”

Everyone else was. The night was positively obscene with the amount of revelry -- she could hear the stomping of feet on the ballroom floor, shaking the floor a little even out here. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to dance out here, but… but while the dancing out there belonged to the party itself, here? Here it was just them, belonged to the two of them, and Juniper told herself that it would be as intimate as any kiss, their bodies close, their hearts close, feeling the beat and the rhythm that each held, fingers entwined, fitting together just so.

The answer came not in the form of words, which Juniper had half-dreaded -- the answer might be no, after all. But instead an arm went about her waist, strong fingers tangling themselves in her sash, and Juniper laced their fingers together, hardly aware of what was happening, so dreamlike was it. Details rose and fell, her mind unable to focus on any one thing for too long -- the lock of hair twisted against that perfect neck, the little gold earrings tinkling as they moved, the shimmering hint of color bringing out dark eyes, the warmth of breath on her skin.

The music was faint, but did they even need it? The world itself had its beat, its pulse, and Juniper found it in the pull of the moon over their heads, in the swelling song of the insects, the hidden symphony of the nightingale. She could taste lavender on her tongue.

It seemed to go on forever, and then was over too soon. What was it that made Josephine pull away, fiddle with a lock of hair at her ear, tucking it behind? What had made her change her mind, or had they come to a natural end of the dance and Juniper had been so caught up that she had been unaware? Would that Josephine had been caught up too…

“The court longs to see your dancing again, Inquisitor.” Gold earrings made their own music as the ambassador chastised another lock behind her ear. “Do be sure to dance with others so that they might see -- it could only win you friends at this point, and help further our cause.”

* * *

 

_Ma Sulahn’nehn,_

_It is cheating, I think, to just_ give _you the translation of those lines, but if you truly cannot figure them out, then I will give you a hint -- I will translate_ one _stanza for you, and I know that you are clever enough to figure out the rest once I give this to you._

_Awed by her splendor_

_Stars near the lovely_

_Moon cover their own_

_Bright faces_

_When she_

_Is roundest and lights_

_Earth with her silver_

_I expect the poem to be translated in full with your next letter. There is a bottle of wine that I…_ liberated _from Empress Celene’s stores as reward when you have proven yourself._

_Do not make me drink it alone, da’nehn._

_-J_


	5. Chapter 5

_\--Found folded under a crimson tassel attached to a silver bell--_

_If you are the rider you claim to be, trained so well in Antiva and Orlais, then you will join me tonight at the stables and prove yourself with my red hart. Ring the silver bell -- he will know then you are a friend._

* * *

 

Should she have just taken Leliana’s offer and had the contract destroyed? Juniper thought on this often as the weeks passed, and she performed task after task, greasing the palm of this noble, stroking the ego of this other noble, helping Josephine call on favors, create new favors, and each day that passed was another day that an assassin might infiltrate their walls. All it would take would be a bit of powdered, sweetened deathroot sprinkled over dried persimmons, and…

But Josephine had been so insistent. No one else was to die for the sins of her forebearers. Was Juniper a fool for going along with it? Would she pass through the ambassador’s office on the way to the war room and find her, cold and stiff over her desk, dead all night and no one knew? And what consolation would it be, knowing that Josephine had made her promise not to send one of Leliana’s agents? Could she clasp that to her breast as easily as the ambassador’s warm hand? Would it tell her jokes in that strange lilting voice? Look at her with laughing, joyful grey eyes?

All these thoughts plagued her over the seeming eternity that she spent, and though Leliana promised agents watching over Josephine once it was clear the route that Juniper was taking, it did not ease her mind, nor did it make her sleep come any easier. Many nights she found herself getting out of bed, asking the agent standing watch outside of Josephine’s room, “Is she in there? Is she safe? Are you sure?”

Josephine, annoyingly, seemed largely unaffected by the danger she faced, assuring Juniper multiple times that if she wasn’t safe here, in Skyhold, then she was safe nowhere. And yes, okay, that might be true, but she would be safe _period_ if they just eliminated that contract… Of course, Juniper couldn’t fuss much, throwing herself into danger just about every single day, and Josephine bore it all with very little comment. But there was likely a very good reason for that -- that reason being that the two of them just weren’t quite on the same wavelength in terms of how they felt about each other.

Regardless, that did not change the way Juniper felt, nor did it change how frightened she was. Each task seemed to spin off into five new ones, and she felt that they would never reach an end… until suddenly they did. These DuParaquettes were raised to whatever station they needed, and they canceled the contract, and then that… was that.

Juniper finally felt like she could relax after all of this, at least as much as she dared, her _actual mission_ still very much looming over her and giving her the same amount of headaches as ever. But Josephine was safe… Thank the gods.

Safe enough, even, to visit the city from where all that evil had sprung.

Josephine was eager, it seemed, to stretch her legs when she had been on what essentially amounted to house arrest. She strode through Val Royeaux as if she hadn’t just feared for her life, and Juniper admired the way she carried herself, so self-possessed.

Water lapped at the docks in a smooth, even rhythm, the cry of gulls and the murmur of dockhands all coming together to form their own sort of music. Juniper had never thought she’d see the sea before all this chaos in her life happened -- her clan never ventured near. And now, look at her! She had visited the ocean several times, a real veteran of the seas at this point, or at least she fashioned herself that in her head. If only such visits had been for pleasure rather than business…

This one, though, perhaps could be a bit more of the former. The sea air brought a fresh glow to Josephine’s cheeks, the ocean itself perhaps calling to those sea grey eyes, making them more vibrant. She was beautiful, as always, and Juniper was entranced, though not just because of the virtues that the sea air brought to the object of her affection.

Josephine felt she had to explain the long, winding path they took, and Juniper’s attention had never been so unshakable as it was when she learned more about this woman, about her past and her feelings and motivations. That she had once been a bard, that she had too played the game… Juniper supposed that it made sense -- she was so apt at reading the players.

But more than that, she understood, now, why it had been so important to Josephine to go this route. Juniper was inordinately glad that she had followed her instinct -- whatever it had been triggered by -- and didn’t go with Leliana’s plan. Since everything had turned out alright in the end, she would rather have taken the path that pleased the ambassador, especially now that she knew _why_ it pleased the ambassador.

“But forgive me,” Josephine said, shaking her head, a wisp of a brown curl bouncing against her temple. “In all this chaos, I forgot to thank you…”

To thank her? Didn’t Josephine know? Juniper would have done so much more for her, would have performed any task that she asked, and with _this_ task, with the woman’s _life_ on the line! How could she have done anything less? “I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” she replied, her words tumbling out, artless, foolish -- but that’s what she was, wasn’t she? “ _Mala enaste_ … I’d do it a million times over. You… you deserve nothing less.”

Color immediately rose in Josephine’s cheeks, and part of Juniper was glad -- at least she wasn’t the only one. And another part of Juniper was _further_ glad when for _once_ Josephine was stammering too -- where was that smooth control she had, that unflappable command of language? And was it really Juniper, with all of her dumb little overtures, that brought this about?

“I… such talk… I am quite overcome…” And she looked it, eyes dropping, shy, her dark, elegant fingers twisting on themselves, pink tongue darting out to wet her lips. Oh that last… it was an invitation that Juniper knew she couldn’t mean, but her attention was drawn there nevertheless -- that perfect, full mouth… would it taste of lavender?

But then she was half turning away, and fear clenched in Juniper’s gut, as surely as if she _had_ tried the kiss and been rebuffed. Had she gone too far? Had her fumblings finally pushed Josephine to the limit? Oh how foolish she was, how silly, such an awkward girl trying to win the affections of such a one as _this_!

“I…” she twisted her own hands, wanted to flee now more than she had when she was pinned between the dragon and Corypheus. “I could stop…?” Stop trying, stop opening her stupid, fool mouth -- oh no amount of lessons from the Keeper could ever stop her from being an utter _idiot_ , and…

“Oh no…” And her heart leapt! “I mean, yes,” and then down it went again. “I meant, no! I don’t…”

Juniper was really feeling rather faint, her heart barely able to take whatever _this_ was, such torment, both sweet and too awful for words. What was this? Did Josephine… was there...?

And then, with a little shake of her head, a toss of curls at her temples, suddenly all confusion was thrown off. Her cheeks had their normal warm, velvet color, and it really almost didn’t seem _natural_ , the way that Josephine was just… _not affected_ anymore. Was Juniper so easily shaken off? Was she ever something to shake off in the first place?

“Well,” a little, surprised laugh. “If you meant to draw a blush to my cheeks, you’ve _completely_ succeeded.” She turned again, this time taking a step away. “Let’s return to Skyhold before anyone notices.”

What could Juniper do but follow? Josephine thought… this was but a game to her. Juniper was just a player in some elaborate social custom -- she might as well be wearing that nug mask. And maybe she _was_ a better player than she thought? For she felt like weeping, and yet her eyes remained free from tears, her brow clear and untroubled. Perhaps she was a better student than she thought she was.

* * *

 

_Dearest lethallan,_

_Now that I am free, Inquisitor, to leave the Skyhold grounds, you must take me riding as you promised. Your lovely steed, I think, has taken quite the liking to me! It has nothing to do with, I assure you, the bits of apple that I have been feeding him._

_I will pack a meal for us, if you promise to let me go riding with you. A fine deal, is it not?_

_Yours,_

_Josephine Montiliyet_


	6. Chapter 6

_Josephine,_

_You have completely taken away Ensalin’s loyalty from me, I swear. He sniffs my hands and pockets for apples and is completely disappointed in me when I do not have them. And then when I do, he is all nuzzles and big brown eyes, and really just quite the flatterer. Have you been teaching him how to play the Game as well?_

_Just for that, I’ll start feeding milk to that calico you’ve started calling your own. We’ll see who she likes better after that!_

_-J_

* * *

 

Juniper supposed that she should see the not so veiled threats from Leliana as a good thing rather than a bad -- and indeed, they were in a way. Josephine was not without her friends, friends that would make those that hurt her pay dearly for doing so. Juniper just wasn’t so keen on having such attention on _her_.

Of course, it wasn’t like it mattered anyway. Despite her declarations to Leliana that she did, indeed, like Josephine, “Probably more than I should,” no matter how she tried to express that to the ambassador, nothing came of it.

They stood on the parapets outside of the ravens’ roost, the birds talking noisily to each other, shuffling about in their cages. It was a good cover -- Juniper didn’t exactly _want_ everyone to know of her failures in courtship, though she thought, perhaps, that it was a bit obvious. She picked at a bit of moss on the stone ledge, looking down at that rather than at the woman standing next to her. “I don’t know,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I have given her gifts, have done everything except pledged myself to her.” In her clan, there would not be this sort of confusion -- either Josephine would accept her affections or decline them, and then that would be that.

But the ambassador… “Sometimes it seems like she _does_ like me, but then…” There were backtracks, as if she regretted everything. And then overtures on her _own_ part toward Juniper! It was all very confusing. “Are all shemlen like this?” Was it just some cultural barrier? Ugh, regardless, she felt like a silly adolescent, some idiot in tales that always made the mistake needed in order to keep the story going.

She heard Leliana echo her sigh, and chanced a look up. The woman, for once, pushed back her hood, and a stray breeze caught her red strands, mussed them up. She tried to smooth them down -- Juniper had all but given up on making _hers_ smoothed down. “Josephine is… an innocent in love. She is well versed in all manners of courtly intrigue, of course, but… she has _no_ idea you are truly attracted to her.”

It was as Juniper thought. This was a game to her, some mild flirtation that usually occurred behind masks at balls. The flushes that colored Juniper’s cheeks might as well be that gaudy nug mask for all the ambassador believed it genuine.

“Have you actually… _told_ her?”

Juniper blinked, flushed _now_. Gods help her, she was truly a wreck. How was it that she led this Inquisition when even the thought of being bold enough to blatantly confess her love made her flush like a child? It was a good thing that being open with one’s feelings toward a loved one and using tears in the fade to rip demons to pieces were two very different skill sets.

She didn’t have to answer for Leliana to know. “She will continue to be ignorant until you do. Mention our conversation. Tell her what I have said about her being an _innocent_ .” Her mouth quirked at this, a bit of mischief in her eyes. “It will make her _so_ indignant. And it will give you the opportunity to correct any… misconceptions she might have.”

It took Juniper several days before she first, had the opportunity to talk to Josephine (an Inquisitor’s work was never done) and second, worked up the courage to broach the subject. There were several missives that actually required her signature, and so she stood at Josephine’s desk, signing one, then another, and so on while she kept internally telling herself, “Do it! Tell her now! _Do it!_ ”

Her voice came quiet, steady, which was a miracle in itself. “Leliana had quite the talk with me the other day.”

“Oh?” Grey eyes rose to hers for a moment before dropping down again to press their seal into bright crimson wax. Perfectly centered, as usual. She blew on it delicately. “What about?”

 _The weather. Nugs. How hoods were coming back into fashion._ “...About us.”

That got her attention, and she set aside the seal entirely, wax starting to dry on the next envelope, completely forgotten as she stared up at Juniper, brow furrowed. “ _Us_ ?” And then a moment of clarity, her brow smoothing again. “Oh, she is _impossible_.”

She was fussing at papers, standing up, telling Juniper that they really ought to talk about this in private, and Juniper didn’t know what this meant, her stomach all in knots. Talk in private? Why? To let her down gently? To declare her love and passionately embrace? Oh, why did she even say anything in the first place?!

Oh, right, because existing in this in between space with the two of them was giving her an ulcer.

She followed obediently, listening to the soft tap of Josephine’s hard soled slippers, the hush of plush fabric as she moved, the tinkle of her earrings. She was always a musical treat -- everything about her was a song that Juniper would never tire of. Their path ended at Juniper’s quarters, and if she thought before that she was nervous, it was nothing compared to now.

She hadn’t been sure what _private_ meant, but it certainly didn’t mean her _own quarters_. Gods, she hoped that something good happened here, or she’d never be able to sleep in this room again. “What did she say?” Josephine was asking, already pacing, and all Juniper could do was sink on the couch. Leliana had at least been right about how this would rile her up, and Juniper hadn’t even gotten to the juicy part yet.

“She was remarking on… our relationship,” Juniper said, eyes tracking the woman as she moved to and fro. “And warning me that you were… a _len_... an innocent in love.”

That stopped her in her tracks, and Josephine looked at her incredulously, a flush rising in her cheeks. “An _innocent in love_ ?! Of all the…!” She threw her hands in the air, more animated in these few moments than Juniper had ever seen her. Her slippers made sharp sounds on the wood floor as she paced, and her flush was marching all the way up to her ears, down her throat. “I… I am _quite_ capable of understanding our association, I assure you.” She scoffed, shaking her head hard enough that her gold earrings rang out. “ _Innocent in love_ …” she muttered, her pretty mouth twisting around it as if she’d just bitten into something sour.

Juniper shifted uncomfortably in her seat. What… what did she do with this? _Our association_ ? And the way Josephine was reacting -- was she upset at the implication? Upset at Leliana’s words? The hint that there might be more than just an _association_?

“I…”

The tiny sound brought Josephine out of whatever stormy thoughts she was indulging in, her gaze snapping up to Juniper’s face. “I have _never_ thought your intentions were overly romantic, Inquisitor.” She shook her head, a burst of surprised laughter escaping her. “Leliana is just… well, _Leliana_. I have never presumed that you harbored any sort of tender feelings for me.”

She said it as if it were _ridiculous_. As if the very thought were something that was absurd, hilarious, worthy of all the jokes. And to correct her now… well, it was just funny to her, wasn’t it? A game…

Stormy eyes looked down on her as if she expected a laugh in return, a way for them to both shrug this off and continue about their day, and if Juniper was some sort of student of the Game, she was not skilled enough yet as a player to laugh when her heart felt like it was dying.

“...Just… Leliana.” She echoed, standing up, her own face dark with embarrassment, humiliation.

“Inquisitor…?”

“I’m… glad we got that cleared up.” Was the smile she gave passable as genuine? Or did it look like she had rictus? Impossible to tell, but it was too late now. “I think the rest of the letters do not need my signature, yes? Good. _Ar nuvenin ghilas_.” In her flustered mortification she tripped on her words, slipped into her tongue, but the moment she did she realized, took a breath, stood up a bit straighter, gathering false shreds of dignity to herself. “I have a meeting with Cullen and Dagna.” So sorry, she was late, had to go, so sorry indeed.

Fleeing from her own room was never something she thought she’d do, but when on the pile of the other things she never thought she’d do this past year, she supposed it was pretty inconsequential.

* * *

 

_My lady Juniper,_

_Your blooms you gifted me with have finally faded, I am sorry to report. However, they will make delightful pressings, and more than that, the seeds that we recovered have finally sprouted! They tell me that it will be a few weeks before we might see any buds, and I cannot wait to hear the sounds of crystal grace again, and think of you._

_Come back to me soon… The way things ended last, I [ink rubbed out]. Please stay safe._

_Always,_

_Josie_


	7. Chapter 7

_Lady Josephine,_

_Did you know that there are different types of lavender? Do you use lavender when you bathe? Is that an odd question? Anyway, I’ve sent a packet of dried lavender, a special type that they say only grows in small, odd pockets in the Wastes. Can you believe it? Something like that growing out here?_

_It was nice to find it. It reminded me of home._

_-J_

* * *

Juniper was honestly quite tired of going to Val Royeaux. Even in the marketplace, the air seemed heavily perfumed, and the water wasn’t even just _water_ , it had to be flavored with some berry or flower or something. And that was fine, the first time she was exposed to it. But now? Now, she felt like she would _kill_ for just a regular glass of water and a breeze off the docks that was, yes, scented with fish. She’d take fish air over the thick perfume of whatever flower that was that the Orlesians were pumping in the marketplace.

But she was here. She was here for… a duel, apparently. She hardly understood it herself, even though she had set herself on this very path. After the discussion in her quarters, things had been… well, not _strained_ exactly, but Juniper had to go out in the field after that, and it was several months before she saw Josephine face to face again. Yes, she still wrote letters. The thought of not receiving those lavender scented notes was… she didn’t think she could handle it. But after the way the ambassador had laughed off Juniper’s attraction, it was good that she was able to get away. If she’d had to stick around Skyhold… she wasn’t sure how she would be able to handle it.

Being away for that long, the distance put between that crushing hurt and the present allowed her to… deal with it. She’d come to terms with the fact that Josephine didn’t want to return her feelings. She would just be friends with the woman. That was enough -- it had to be. For a life without Josephine in it in some capacity was not a life at all.

So when she returned, it was with a mostly clear heart, able to move forward, she thought, to deal with her feelings, and be content with what she had, nothing more.

Until Josephine told her that she was getting married.

Well, not for awhile. And to someone that she didn’t care for, indeed, didn’t even _know_ . But suddenly the thought of Josephine not only not being with her, but being with someone she didn’t even love?! And for what?! Ugh, Juniper just didn’t think she could handle it. If Josephine loved this guy, then that would be a different matter altogether because she wanted Josephine to be happy above all else. But _she didn’t_ , and that was just something Juniper’s heart couldn’t bear.

“It wouldn’t be until after my work here is concluded, which means that it might not be for quite sometime.” She was explaining while Juniper silently imploded. “It will in no way interfere with my work, Inquisitor, I assure you.”

“But… is this something that you _want_ to do?”

“I…” she shuffled her papers, looking more as if she was just searching for something to do with her hands than truly needing to move things around. “He is a man from an honorable family, with excellent trade connections. The Montiliyets will benefit greatly from the alliance.” She owed it all to the Inquisition itself, she explained, that she even garnered such attention. Her ties to this movement increased her own family’s influence, and as such, her family had seen fit to cement such ties with this marriage alliance. “It is a most reasonable match.”

 _Reasonable._ Juniper had been the opposite of it, wanting to throw things, to scream, to kick furniture. Instead she just nodded, trying not to set her hands into fists. “But if you _did_ want to get out of it, could you?”

Josephine had looked up at her, grey eyes strange for a moment, something passing through them, that… Juniper couldn’t be sure what it was. She knew what she had _wanted_ it to be, but… “If someone challenged him to a duel…” She laughed, high and shocked. “What a thing though! No, it would be far too dangerous. To duel in the streets like a common thug!”

Juniper knew how Josephine felt about that. She knew that she didn’t want blood shed for unnecessary causes. But… this was _necessary._ Or so she told herself.

 _Stupid, stupid, this is_ stupid _!_ She paced back and forth in that stupid marketplace, second guessing herself every few steps. She was going behind Josephine’s back on this. Dueling someone in her name when Josephine hadn’t even… she hadn’t even said that she _wanted_ Juniper. Had laughed at the thought, even!

She might be ruining Josephine’s life, her family’s reputation, the Inquisition’s reputation, and yet here she was, willing to risk everything, and for what? For a love that might not be returned?!

She thought, belatedly, that maybe she should have just… really confronted Josephine first, really told her, in no uncertain terms, how she felt. That would have been the smart thing to do, not stand here, waiting for Lord Such and Such (Lord Adorno Ciel Otranto of Antiva, her mind supplied) to show up so that she could piss all over her friend’s life and family. Maybe she could just flee… just run away and… pretend this never happened? And then what? Let Josephine marry someone she didn’t even love!

 _Yes_. That was it exactly. Juniper had no right…

Heavy boots behind her made her stiffen, the voice twisting her heart with anger, jealousy. “I am Lord Adorno Ciel Otranto of Antiva, rightfully betrothed of Lady Montiliyet.”

The air tightened around her as she spun around, whispers of the fade caressing her, power flowing through to her fingertips. The man blinked, but then offered a lazy smile, tossing her a rapier. It was not a weapon that she was used to, and she had not counted on not being able to use her magic. It was pretty painfully obvious that she hadn’t prepared for this, and the thought of Josephine's anger over the whole situation made the skin at the back of her neck prickle.

But there was little she could do now. The man was tossing careful barbs at her, and she heard herself responding, though she wasn’t really paying attention to what they said. She was looking at _him_ , looking at the way he held himself, the way his boots were more worn on one side, hinting at the direction he might most likely go in on that first strike, the way his eyes moved, the sudden intake of breath, and…

Their swords crashed together, Juniper anticipating his move and countering it, making him stumble back. But he was no amateur, and she _was_ with this weapon. The next had her scrambling out of the way, the sword singing through the air. What she had on her side was agility, her race’s natural grace letting her sidestep the shemlen’s more lumbering footwork, but he _knew what he was doing_ , and this was the first time she had held a rapier, the first time she had fought this style. A Keeper’s first trained in combat _magic_ , not swordplay.

The insults he lobbed at her were designed to make her angry -- joke was on him; she was _already_ angry, and needed no help from him. She refused to be goaded, though, singlemindedly holding her own, hoping to just tire him out -- victory was the only goal, and she was not about to let this puffed up shemlen take away the one she loved best, and --

“ _Stop!_ ”

Josephine was always so soft spoken, but her voice rang out through the marketplace as clear as a bell, and both she and the shemlen lord froze, their sword points lowering.

“My lady,” he was saying, bowing. “It is a pleasure…”

And she stalked right past him, right up to Juniper, her face ashen, her eyes bright, coral lips in a tight, thin line. Juniper was terrified even as she was, for some reason, _thrilled_. Why? Apparently she was looking for a death sentence in one way or another today. But one way or another, this was all ending -- either well or poorly.

“What are you _doing_?” She hissed through clenched teeth, right up in Juniper’s face, but she did not take a step back.

Wide green eyes stared up at the other woman, and her voice trembled a little, but for once she stayed her ground. Would that she had done this earlier! “I… I can’t let you do this. You can’t marry him!”

Grey eyes widened ever more, and _she_ was the one who took the step back, her hands waving in the air as if she might wipe all of this away, like chalk on a smudged board. “That is not _your_ decision! The Inquisition needs you! _I_ need you! And… and you do _this_ ? Throw yourself into danger! Duel in the streets like a criminal -- you could have been _killed_ ! And for what? For _me_?”

 _I need you_ … Could anyone have ever described the way Juniper’s heart fluttered then, the agony of hope almost more painful than the dread of despair. “I…”

But Josephine wasn’t interested in what Juniper had to say, marching on, indeed, as if she hadn’t said a word. “Why do this? Why risk everything we have, your life --”

“Because I love you!”

And there it was. Out in front of everyone, in the most uncouth manner of expressing it -- oh Josephine must rue ever attaching herself to such a woman, to air their affairs in such a manner. But _there it was_ , and though Juniper had basically gone about this in the worst manner possible… She said it. It was inescapable -- there was no going back. No pretending it didn’t happen. No miscommunications, no thinking that one meant something else. _I love you_ . And that was why Juniper did this, so stupid -- she knew it was stupid -- because she loved Josephine and she had never claimed to be smart in such matters. If only she had said it earlier… but it was here now, interjected, shouted, because Juniper knew she wouldn’t get a word in edgewise. _I love you_.

Gulls cried in their perches in the upper stories; the sea roared distantly, but other than that, one could have dropped a pin and heard it. Josephine stared at her, eyes wide with shock, mouth open, moving slightly as if there were words _somewhere_ , but none were coming out. How many minutes had passed? How many years? Surely it couldn’t have been mere seconds…

Her voice came finally, small, curious. “You… you do?”

“I’ve tried,” Juniper said miserably, the sword clattering to the ground, her fingers useless to hold it. Let Otranto cut her down. She did not care. “I’ve tried to tell you. You laughed…”

Something like pain moved over Josephine’s face then, and Juniper was too scared to dare think what it might mean. “We’ve known each other for so little time, I just… I didn’t think…”

How could she not think it? How could she not know? Was she really so ignorant of everything in Juniper’s heart? Everything rushed out now, headlong, unheeding, the words tumbling over each other, a newly thawed mountain stream. The admission had broken everything loose, all that had laid stifled in her heart for these long months. “ _Ma emma lath, ma vhenen’ara_ .”She started, her mouth working too quickly for her brain to translate -- ugh, she couldn’t confess in a language Josephine barely understood! She started over with a little frustrated shake of her head, her accent thick, unable to do much more in her current state. “I’ve loved you for so long -- our letters, our moments together. They’ve meant more to me than _anything_ . Whatever happens with the Inquisition, whether we succeed or fall, I will count myself happy in that I met _you_.” But this all meant nothing, nothing at all if Josephine didn’t return…

Tears gathered in Josephine’s lovely eyes, and again, Juniper was so scared that… “I didn’t mean to _laugh_ .” She took a few steps forward, stopped just short of the smaller woman, hands half outstretched as if she meant to embrace her. “I thought you meant, that you couldn’t possibly… But you… you _really_ do?”

Was there any other response other than to take those hands herself, pull her close, and drink deep of that sweet lavender honey mouth? Fresh and cloying, soft and inviting, that kiss was everything Juniper dreamed it would be, and when Josephine melted against her, arms about her neck, heedless of their audience, Juniper felt sure the Fade could open and swallow them all, and she wouldn’t even notice.

* * *

 

 _Oh Juniper, they have sprouted! Did you know that the buds make sounds as well? I cannot wait until there are blooms_ and _buds -- what music they will make!_

_Hurry home to me -- I would not listen to it alone._

_\--sketched at the bottom is a charcoal drawing of the new plant, the calico napping on a bench, and a bird with the note, ‘this one sat on my sill and sang to me. It reminded me of you.’--_

 


	8. Chapter 8

_\--tied in a delicately woven cord, strong but pliable, with little green stones threaded through--_

_Dearest Juniper,_

_I know how much it bothers you, your hair in your eyes in battle. And yes, you have just gotten it trimmed, but I saw one of the troops with this in her hair, and I had to ask after it. She told me who she bought it from, which led me to a pair of twins, who spoke in turns_ every. other. word. _and they said that they hadn’t actually woven it themselves, but that they traded a bottle of brandy for it, among various other sundry items that they tried to sell me, but it was honestly garbage._

_A mage had wanted the brandy, but only because he had lost a bet to a dwarf, who led me to one of Cullen’s soldiers, who introduced me to someone I believe is one of Sera’s_ friends _, and then_ finally _, to the elf who wove it in the first place._

_I will not tell you the price I paid for this one. Just… enjoy it._

_With love,_

_Josie_

* * *

Somehow Juniper felt that the world should stop, give them a breather or something, now that she and Josephine had finally found each other. So much wasted time, on both their parts. Juniper most definitely could have just  _said it_ , but Josephine, also, had been looking for whatever tiny reason she could to deny the fact that mutual affection had blossomed. They laughed about it afterwards, Josephine’s engagement broken off (maybe that Lord Such and Such wasn’t so bad after all, so graciously bowing out), sharing a bottle of wine in Juniper’s quarters. Everything seemed as if it could be laughed at now, their love making them feel as if nothing bad would touch them again.

But it was a dream short lived, and their enemies cared not for newly blossomed love. Both of them knew that they had little time, perhaps even less than they thought. Who knew what tomorrow would bring?

But Josephine was quick to rally, always. Work needed to be done and so she worked tirelessly, often late into the evening, hunched over her desk, writing letters to be sent with the dawn. It was one of the things that had caught Juniper’s attention in the very beginning -- those ink stained hands, that passion and dedication. Josephine always handled  _everything_ with ease, knowing just what to say, how to say it, the smallest word defusing a situation. She saw it more than once in the war room, when tempers would flare and opinions got heated, and Josephine, in a few short sentences, would bring the argument down, and everything would proceed calmly once more.

_Niceness not knives_ , Leliana said, almost mockingly, but Juniper admired that about the ambassador. Such integrity, such adherence to a strong sense of ethics… of course, Juniper herself knew that niceness couldn’t solve everything, but as a Keeper’s First, that had been her job -- solve problems, mediate, defend. Violence was a last resort, always, for her clan was her brothers, her sisters, and quarrels between family should never be solved with bloodshed.

But she didn’t have time to reflect on that, barely had enough time to share it with Josephine, curled up with her, voices low and hushed as they whispered little affections. Their path now took them to the Arbor Wilds, and Juniper got a taste of what it felt like for Josephine herself whenever she went out in the field. Combat should not find their way to their camp, but if it did? What if red templars overran their fortifications? Who would protect Josephine?

She tried not to think of that as they lay together in Juniper’s tent, large and luxurious as it was -- the Inquisition never seemed to spare any expense (or was it Josephine herself?). A warm, brown shoulder was bared as Josephine’s nightgown slipped, ties at her breast loose. Dark hair tumbled about her shoulders, freed from their usual confines, and Juniper ran her fingers through it as she brushed it, Josephine sighing her delight. She was sure that her own hair had never been so soft…

They were able to spend hours together talking, but just as equally, they could spend long moments in silence, just enjoying each other’s presence. The latter was happening now, Juniper trying her hardest not to think about the potential danger Josephine was in, trying to stay in the moment. The ambassador, though, seemed to have a harder time of it.

“I know you have to go,” she suddenly said, opening her eyes to look up at Juniper, her head nestled in the elven woman’s lap. “And I know that saying this is unfair. But… I wish you didn’t have to.”

A smile quirked Juniper’s lips, even as her own heart hurt a little -- this was the one thing she’d been trying not to think of! “We could always just run away. How long do you think it would take Leliana and Cullen to track us down?”

That got a laugh at least, little and lilting, and Juniper was glad of it. “Far too soon, my lady, far too soon!”

And Juniper wished that she could keep the light mood going, but unfortunately now  _her_ mind was on this too. “You  _have_ to promise me to stay safe. I don’t care how you do it -- at the first sign of danger, I need you to  _run_ .”

“And leave you behind?” Josephine sat up now, brushing hair out of her eyes. Juniper never would have guessed it was so unruly, being pinned back so often. “Preposterous.”

“Whatever you may call it,” freckled, sun-kissed hands pushed those shoulders back down again, and Juniper straddled her, trapping her against the bedroll. “It  _is_ what you’ll be doing.” She leaned down, wishing her hair was longer so that she could trap Josephine under a curtain of that as well. As it was, her bangs hung down, tickled Josephine’s forehead, making her wrinkle her nose. Her voice lowered, a bare whisper. “You wouldn’t dare defy an order from your Inquisitor, would you?”

Heat crawled up Josie’s cheeks, and she bit her lip, eyes darting away. Juniper wasn’t used to being the one on top, literally and figuratively, and a secret thrill raced through her, clenched low in her belly. “If I did?” Came the hushed reply, something sliding behind those words, making Juniper’s heart skip a beat. “What would happen then?”

What indeed?

* * *

_\--on official letterhead, bearing the seal of the Inquisition--_

_No, Bull, you are not allowed to ask what I need the rope for. Yes, I will tell Dorian that it was_ you _who accidentally spilled his last bottle of hair pomade if you do not keep your mouth shut._

_Thank you for your cooperation._

_Her Worship, the Herald of Andraste, Bearer of the Mark, Champion of the Fade, Guiding Light to the Mages, and Asha Elvhen,_

_Lady Juniper Lavellan_


	9. Chapter 9

They opened it together, picking at the edge of the seal until it snapped clean from the paper, unfolding it carefully, the leaves smelling of lavender. The fire burned merrily, warming them as they cuddled close on the couch, the sounds of the revelry further in Skyhold reaching them here -- the party would last far beyond the dawn.

But for the two of them, their part in the celebrations in the main hall were over. They’d both put in their appearances, and Josephine had outdone herself with the accommodations. Juniper was sure that their celebration rivaled the one she attended in Orlais, and even said so, though Josephine denied it.

As amazing as it was, though, this was where they wanted to be, curled around each other -- it had been a long shot that they’d even get to do this. Yes, Juniper had many successes, but actually fighting and defeating the Elder One? She fought because she had to, but she had her doubts… Josephine wouldn’t hear of them. “I knew you’d make it,” she said.

_Emma lath, my dearest Juniper,_

_I watched you stride away down the mountain path until I could see you no more. It was over too quickly, only a few bare seconds, and then you were gone! I am holding the memory of you tight to my heart, and I think I can hear the sounds of a crystal grace bloom -- have they blossomed already, or am I just imagining it? Wishing that it were here, that you were here? Oh how I miss your smile, your voice already…_

_What if all I have now are memories?_

“You said you’d known I’d make it,” Juniper teased softly, unable to help herself.

“Hush,” came the equally quiet admonishment -- she tried to make it teasing, but the shine of tears unshed in her eyes betrayed her. Yes they had won, but they had very nearly not. “It was written in distress! I dare you to reverse our positions and not fear the same thing!”

_If that is all I am to have, then I am happy for the ones that we have made, but sad for the ones that we have_ missed _making. Oh, that we had realized our love for each other sooner! Would that I had not been so obtuse, you so shy! For though I love the way you flush when you are flustered, Juniper, I cannot help but wish that, if we cannot have a lifetime, that we could have had at least these months together._

Juniper was flushing  _now_ , and Josephine dashed the tears from her eyes, let out a giggle, pressing a soft kiss to Juniper’s freckled cheek. And what came next made her flush even darker.

_If Andraste and the Maker grant us more time, though, then I will gladly spend a lifetime with you, a thousand lifetimes with you. But you must come back here to me in order to claim it, claim_ me _._

_So come back to me. Please come back to me. Do not leave me with only memories._

“And so here I am.” She brushed her lips over soft, dark hair as Josephine snuggled closer, the letter falling from from her hands -- no need to rely on memories and letters when they were  _here_ ,  _together_ . “Ready to claim you?”

“No need,” came the reply, as a teasing, warm mouth found its way along her throat. “I am already yours, my lady.”


End file.
